


The Kessel Run

by noviembre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, misuse of star wars dialogue, this takes place in the 'end of season 15 never happened' cinematic universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noviembre/pseuds/noviembre
Summary: Jack - after first getting the required parental permission to alter reality - sends Dean into one of his favorite movies as a birthday present.Dean's not sure how he feels about this.He's even less sure how he feels about Castiel in the starring role of his childhood crush.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86





	The Kessel Run

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to the discord for enabling this nonsense. unbetaed. uh -- warning for original trilogy Star Wars spoilers?

Dean is a very easy person to please, because all he really asks for is his family together and happy. And since Jack had helped make that possible, there’s not much more he can provide. 

This gives Jack the feeling of tension in his jaw that he recognizes as _frustration_ , because: he loves Dean, Dean’s birthday is coming up, and he wants to give him something special. Something more than just a six-pack or a pie (Sam and Castiel’s likely gifts, lovely in their own ways). 

It’s during a weekly movie night that he finally gets an idea, watching Dean mouth the lines along with the characters on screen. 

So the next morning, he sets his alarm for earlier than usual, well before Dean and Castiel wake up. Sam, dressed for a run, sits sipping coffee at the table and grins up at him when he enters. 

“Morning, Jack. You’re up early,” he said.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually,” Jack tells him, pouring a mug of milk to heat for hot chocolate. (Dean had vetoed coffee for Jack in the mornings, telling him it would stunt his growth. Jack wasn’t sure he believed that, being a nephilim and all, but he also found the taste of hot chocolate much better than coffee anyway, so he didn’t argue. Sam buys him sweet mocha drinks with whipped cream if Dean’s not in the car when they stop for coffee.)

“Yeah? What’s up?” Sam puts his phone down, focusing on Jack.

“I wanted to do something nice for Dean’s birthday,” he starts. “I had an idea. But I needed your permission.”

Jack nods over at the document taped to the fridge, entitled _Bunker Rules._ He assumes it’s probably obvious to Sam what he’s referring to (“Do your own goddamn dishes,” “Cas isn’t allowed to operate the oven,” “No weird witch shit with human blood or hair in the kitchen,” and “Do NOT throw out the turkey bacon just because you don’t eat it, Dean” don’t really apply) but just to be clear he specifies. 

“Rule number 4.” _No altering reality without permission from a parent._

Sam quirks an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

Jack dumps the packet of cocoa into his hot milk and crosses to sit at the table with Sam. “He gets so excited about the movies he likes. I wanted to put him in them.”

Sam snorts. “Surprisingly, it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

Jack, who had been excited about this idea, feels a sting he knows to characterize as disappointment. Something of what he’s feeling must be visible on his face, because Sam’s eyes go big and sad. “No, no, Jack, it’s a great idea,” he says, raising placating hands. “We got stuck in TV land against our will once, and that wasn’t so fun, but Dean loved getting to be in Scooby Doo. I think he’d love it.”

Jack peers at Sam, afraid he’s just telling him what he wants to hear, but there’s no dishonesty rippling in the air around him. After a minute, he sits back, satisfied. “You think he’d really enjoy it?”

“Definitely,” Sam tells him with a smile. “Though you might want to include Cas. I think he’d have more fun with a friend.”

“That was the plan,” Jack says. He knows Dean loves teaching Castiel about his favorite movies, even though Sam groans every time Dean pauses a movie to elbow Cas and explain some detail or reference to him. “Do you and Eileen want to join as well?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Sam says immediately. “I had less fun than Dean the first time we got stuck in a screen. That’s more his thing than mine. So tell me, what did you have in mind for them?”

Jack tells him. 

Then he watches as Sam:

  1. Spits out a large amount of coffee,
  2. Asks him to repeat himself (he does), and
  3. Coughs very loudly for a long enough time that Jack has to take a quick glance at his lungs to make sure they are all in good shape.’



Once Sam has himself back under control, he reassures Jack that the ideas are _fantastic_ and will be great for Dean and Castiel. Though Jack does find it a little suspicious the way he summons Eileen to the kitchen and asks Jack to repeat what he’s planning.

He trusts them both, though. He knows they wouldn’t really encourage him to do something that would make Dean or Castiel unhappy. 

Especially because of the way Sam pauses on his way out of the kitchen later and says, in a softer tone of voice: “And Jack — you’ll make sure he’s not in any danger, right? Maybe give him a heads up that it’s you behind the scenes?”

“Absolutely,” Jack promises. “He’ll be perfectly safe.”

* * *

Dean is getting _shot at._ With _lasers._

He was just in the bunker kitchen, about to make himself a nice birthday breakfast, and now there is laser fire whipping past his head, and _what the fuck._

Okay, so, this is some new kind of crazy. 

Because as his vision clears from the — again — _laser fire blasting past his eyeballs_ , he realizes he’s not just getting shot at. He’s getting shot at by stormtroopers.

“Am I dreaming?” he says out loud. For most people, he assumes, that would be the obvious answer, but of course in his life he could count a half a dozen other options, easy.

“No, we’re really here to rescue you. Don’t worry!” Luke Skywalker says from beside him. 

Another round of blaster fire almost singes his nose, and he flattens himself against the wall. Right, not a dream. 

Just another day in Dean’s life. 

“Great rescue so far,” Dean tells him, and turns to look the other way down the corridor. Except, he realizes, he recognizes this hallway, and—

Wait.

Wait a fucking second. 

He knows the Star Wars movies backwards and forwards. If Luke Skywalker, wearing a stormtrooper uniform, is here to rescue him, and they’re in _this_ corridor—

He looks down and sees that he’s wearing a white shirt and pants, and groans out loud.

“Jesus Christ,” he says to the universe. “Am I Princess Leia?”

Luke Skywalker ( _Luke Skywalker!_ ) gives him a confused look, but at this point in the movie Luke is mostly confused about everything, so Dean doesn’t think he needs an explanation. 

So he’s got a couple things to figure out. First of all, on a scale of one to apocalypse, how worried does he need to be? Second, with Gabriel dead, Zachariah dead, and Chuck out of the picture, which bad guy still has the juice to do something like this?

And third, if he’s Leia here. Does that mean he gets to flirt with Han Solo?

Okay, he didn’t really intend for that to be on his list — obviously he _should_ be Han Solo himself — but he’s man enough to admit, y’know, Harrison Ford. 

Once you’ve been through a couple alternate reality near-death experiences, the terror sort of wears off anyway. He figures flirting coming in at number 3 on the list means he’s doing a pretty good job of prioritizing. 

And it looks like he’ll get his chance soon anyway, because that’s definitely Chewbacca backing through the blaster hole at the end of the corridor and another man in stormtrooper gear at his side, returning fire on the other stormtroopers. 

“Can’t get out that way,” he says, voice muffled through the helmet, as he backs up toward them. And listen, it’s not like Dean knows _every_ single line of this movie, but. He’s seen it more than a few times, okay? He is very prepared for this moment.

“Looks like you’ve cut off our only escape route,” he tells Han Solo. 

Han turns to him, shifting his blaster to one hand to return a last barrage of blaster fire while, with the other, he lifts off his storm trooper helmet to reveal— 

Messy dark hair and laughing blue eyes.

“Maybe you’d like it back in your cell, your highness,” Cas says. 

“Wait, what the fuck,” Dean says, “How come you get to be Han Solo?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “That’s not the line, Dean.” 

“Yeah, good to see you too, Cas,” Dean elbows him, regretting it a second later when his arm painfully reminds him that Cas is wearing solid body armor. 

Cas doesn’t seem particularly freaked out, which helps calm some of the worst case scenarios in his mind. “Any idea what we’re dealing with here?” he asks.

“Imperial stormtroopers,” Luke Skywalker says. 

“Exactly,” Cas nods gravely. 

_Not_ what Dean was asking, but since they are getting actively shot at again, Dean figures it’s time to move this along. 

And yeah, maybe he takes a particular pleasure in saying, “Into the garbage chute, flyboy,” to Cas before hopping through the hole he blasted in the grate.

“Charming. Either I’m going to kill him or I’m beginning to like him,” Cas comments to Luke behind him. 

+

Two things about the trash compactor:

  1. Just because Cas tells him that Jack’s grace is woven through the structure of this reality, telling him they are both perfectly safe and that this is almost certainly some kind of birthday present, doesn’t mean that Dean’s life doesn’t flash before his eyes in the moments before the trash compactor shuts down.
  2. Watching it on a screen really did not prepare Dean for the smell.



+

When he finally lays eyes on the Millennium Falcon, Dean gets it. 

Jack is a little, well, unusual, so his idea of a birthday present isn’t really something you can get gift wrapped. Dean would have been more than happy with just a cold beer and having his family around the table. But this? Seeing the Millennium Falcon in person? Even after all the running and shooting — which, not that different from his regular life — it takes his breath completely away.

Yeah. It’s a pretty great gift.

Though he’s still annoyed that he didn’t get to be Han Solo. 

Of course, that means that he gets to watch Cas, cool as anything, slide into the captain’s chair and take control of the ship. His long fingers flip switches and pull knobs like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s just as bossy as ever as he directs Chewbacca to navigate them away from the Death Star.

_The whole vest ensemble is a good look on him_ , he thinks distantly, then mentally slaps himself upside the head. Being in Leia’s role here must be getting to him. 

+

“Not a bad bit of rescuing, hm?” Cas says, smug. “You know, sometimes I even amaze myself.”

Dean rolls his eyes, biting down his grin at how well Cas knows the part. “Doesn’t sound too hard. Buddy, they let us go. That was way too easy.”

“You call that easy?” Cas asks, sounding just as fondly annoyed with Dean as he does when Dean stops him from using the oven again. (Fool him twice, lose oven privileges permanently).

“They’re tracking us,” he tells him, particularly confident because he _knows_ he’s right.

“Not this ship,” Cas says.

+

Watching the Death Star blow up might be the coolest thing Dean’s ever seen. Top 5, for sure.

+

Yeah, he knows he didn’t do a _lot_ here, but it’s hard to stop the swell of pride in his chest as he stands in the front of a room of rebels who somehow, against the odds, took down a massive evil force. In his real life, he doesn’t often get to really bask in the wins. Usually it seemed like taking down one big bad meant that something even bigger and badder popped up, and he and Sam and Cas were too busy just trying to catch their breaths to really be able to enjoy a win. Even after the last, biggest win — taking down Chuck, finally setting all the big universe-level cosmic wrongs to right — it’s not like they had a ceremony in the bunker to exchange medals or anything. They’d splurged with fake money on a more-expensive-than-usual bottle of whiskey and then Dean had spent a week barely sleeping, too ready for something else to go wrong. 

He kind of wishes they’d actually celebrated more. It’s a little weird to throw yourself a “we un-ended the world” party, he knows, but hell — if that’s not an excuse for a party, what is?

It would definitely be worth it if it was anything like the feeling he gets watching Cas approach with (yeah, he’s still not over it) Luke Skywalker and Chewbacca. 

Cas’s eyes are so warm when they meet his, and he knows that’s in character for the moment but it feels like something real between them anyway. Something private. It’s been a little awkward between them since Cas moved in full time after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, always missing each other: dodging each other’s eyes, passing as one leaves a room just as the other enters. There’s something there, some pressure forming in the air between them, and sometimes at night he lets himself be afraid that they just don’t know how to be friends when it’s not wartime. 

But now, looking at Cas directly, those fears seem irrelevant. Cas is beaming, and Dean can’t hold back his smile as he places a medal over Cas’s shoulders, knuckles gently brushing dark hair as he pulls his hands back. And Cas — Cas fucking _winks_ at him.

It’s in the movie, Dean realizes after a beat.

That doesn’t matter.

There’s pressure between them, but maybe it’s a different shape than he’d thought.

+

Dean figured this whole thing was over — they’d go back to the bunker and laugh about it all. 

But now it’s friggin’ freezing, the walls are made out of ice, and Cas is leaving. 

“Dean. I guess this is it,” Cas says. And the thing is, Dean _knows_ it’s in the movie. Knows that the whole fun of this is getting to pretend. But he can’t help feeling like this is uncomfortably real. If there’s one thing he knows — one thing he doesn’t have to pretend to feel — it’s the sour taste in the back of his throat when Cas walks out the door.

“That’s right,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice surprises him. He hopes Cas thinks he’s just a great actor. 

Cas cocks his head, and he sounds uncertain as he replies, “Well, don’t get all mushy on me.” He gives Dean a long look before he walks away, and Dean’s had _enough_ of seeing Cas’s back turn in this reality and any other.

“Cas!” he shouts, and Cas pauses.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I thought you decided to stay.” There’s something real threading through his voice, he can just _hear_ it. He’s on the verge of doing the thing he never does, and it sets his teeth on edge just at the thought of _asking for what he wants_.

Cas’s eyes are focused on him like lasers. “Well, the bounty hunter we ran into on Ord Mantell changed my mind,” he says, and it doesn’t actually matter that that’s not something Dean actually has to worry about with Cas. What matters is Cas changing his mind about staying.

“Cas,” he says, and swallows hard. “We need you.”

Cas cocks his head. “We?” he asks, voice almost painfully even.

And what the hell is Dean supposed to say. He said it to Cas, once. Said _I need you_ , and then Cas left. He makes a lot of mistakes, but he never makes the same mistake twice. “Yes, we,” Dean says, ice in his voice.

Cas takes a step closer to him. “What about what _you_ need, Dean?” he asks. 

Dean lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, lying. 

Cas examines him for a long minute, then something in his eyes shutters. He looks genuinely disappointed as he shakes his head. “You probably don’t,” he agrees with Dean, softly, and goes to step back.

Except Dean reaches out, grabs his shoulder. There’s something he’s missing here. Something that made Cas go all disappointed. “What precisely am I supposed to know?” he asks, deadly serious.

The only sound between them is their breath, coming out in visible puffs in the frozen air. He tries to read Cas’s expression, but he’s inscrutable — forehead wrinkled, wide eyes focused on Dean. 

“You want me to stay,” Cas starts slowly. “Because of… the way you feel about me?” It’s a prompt. An open ended question for Dean. 

But Dean is a coward. “Yeah, man. You’re a great help to us. You’re… a natural leader…” it’s so weak, absolute bullshit not even he could buy, and he thinks _this is it, Cas is definitely leaving now_.

Except Cas squints at him more like he doesn’t understand. Neither of them seems to understand each other, and they’re talking in circles, and Dean’s not sure if they’re getting any closer to the middle.

“No,” Cas says. “That’s not it.”

And then his face changes, like he’s suddenly made up his mind. Like he’s not confused anymore. He takes a step closer to Dean, except they were already close. Now their chests are so close that Dean can feel the warmth from Cas’s body, and if he just leaned in a bit—

No. He can’t. He can’t ruin everything like that. “You’re imagining things,” he says, weakly, mostly to himself. 

“Am I?” Cas asks, and all traces of uncertainty are gone now. “Then why _are_ you following me?” And Dean’s about to deny, reject, throw up his walls, except Cas’s eyes are all warm again, and the corner of his mouth is lifting. “Afraid I was going to leave without giving you a goodbye kiss?”

A few pieces of Dean’s brain are shifting, turning, and coming back together to make a picture he’d tried so hard not to see. He hadn’t really thought — he’d known the roles they're playing, of course, he knows the scene, knows the set-up, but he hadn’t grasped the shape of his _want_ until he had someone else’s words in his mouth. 

“I’d just as soon kiss a Wookiee,” he says, eyes caught on Cas’s mouth, denying the obvious like he’s got a dozen years of practice in it. 

Cas’s voice is even lower than normal as he says, “I can arrange that.” He raises one hand, slowly, eyes fixed on Dean’s the whole time even as he gently ghosts a finger across Dean’s lips. “You could use a good kiss.”

And Dean knows they’ve gotta rescue Luke and take down some Imperial walkers and navigate an asteroid field before they get to this part, but hell — he’s tired of following a script anyway. 

Cas meets him halfway, like he couldn’t wait either.

Kissing Cas feels like coming home. He sighs out years of never letting himself _want_ in a soft exhale against Cas’s lips and Cas presses a warm hand against his lower back.

And then Cas presses closer and kisses Dean open mouthed and deep, and it’s 0 to 60 in two seconds flat. 

“You _are_ a scoundrel,” he says against Cas’s lips when he finally has to pull back to catch his breath, and he feels Cas’s smile mirroring his own. 

+

Watching Cas get increasingly jealous of Lando Calrissian is _delightful,_ until Vader gets there and Dean’s stomach is suddenly lead. 

Doesn’t matter that this isn’t real, and that he knows Han gets unfrozen in the next movie. He can’t watch this.

“Hey, Jack?” he says, looking over Cas’s shoulder at the carbonite freezing pit behind him. “This has been great, but I think we’re good here. Can you pull us out?” 

For a moment, he’s terrified that something’s gone wrong — that they’re stuck here, that he’s going to watch Cas scream in pain.

+

He blinks, and he’s in his bedroom. Staring up at the ceiling of the bunker, breathing heavily like he just ran a race.

There’s no way that was a dream. Was it?

The memories are still sharp, not slipping away from him like a dream, but — he has to be sure.

Pushing open the door to his room and stepping into the hallway takes him face-to-face with Cas, in a t-shirt and bedhead like he’s just woken up, stepping out into the hallway in a whirlwind from his own room.

They stare at each other for a second.

“That was real, wasn’t it?” Dean finally asks, voice low.

“That depends on your definition of real,” Cas says. “It was in our heads, not in this reality.” 

Dean shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second. “Not what I’m asking.”

The first touch of Cas’s hands slipping into his has his eyes shooting wide open again.

Cas is smiling widely at him.

“I love you,” he says.

And they’ve got the roles backwards now but what the hell else can Dean say except: “I know.”

It’s honestly a bit of a dick move. But by the way Cas kisses him, he doesn’t think he’s offended.

+

Jack, Sam and Eileen are in the war room when they come in, Dean leaving a calculated distance between him and Cas. He thinks the way his body thrums with electricity when they get within a foot of each other might actually be visible, tiny sparks catching off his skin like jumper cables.

“Did you like it?” Jack asks, anxious.

“Definitely,” Dean reassures him, and grins. “Best present ever.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Jack sighs. “I was worried, because I didn’t think you were at the end of the movie when you prayed.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. “Were you, uh. Were you watching?”

“No,” Jack says, cocking his head in confusion. “Just listening in case you needed something.” 

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Sam asks, amusement rich in his voice. “Would he have seen something you didn’t want him to?”

_Is Sam actually psychic again,_ Dean wonders, gritting his teeth to school his reaction. How on _earth_ could he know. 

“Ignore him,” Eileen says. “I bet you looked great in the bikini.”

Oh. Right.

Funny how that hadn’t even crossed Dean’s mind.

“I look great in everything,” Dean says, not correcting their assumptions. “Though, kid—” he turns to Jack. “How come Cas was Han Solo? I’m totally Han, not Leia.”

“The reluctant ally who turns his back on his former lifestyle in favor of his new friends and cause?” Sam says mildly. “Sure, no way that’s Cas.” 

“Leia’s the one whose belief in a better, freer universe wins over Han to the rebellion,” Cas adds. “I can see the similarities.” 

“You have the bone structure for a braided updo,” Eileen deadpans.

Dean can’t win when he’s being ganged up on like this.

“I guess you _are_ a scruffy nerf-herder,” he says to Cas, grinning.

“And you’re a princess, Dean,” Sam adds. 

“Hey. No Princess Leia slander allowed in my bunker. I’m adding it to the rules.” 

He _very gracefully and with a lot of dignity,_ leaves the room — not retreating — to go add it to the list in the kitchen, as Sam calls behind him, “So how uncomfortable _is_ a metal bikini anyway?” 

**Author's Note:**

> almost all dialogue is directly taken or lightly edited from Star Wars episodes IV and V.


End file.
